


The Most Frantic Prayer

by QuickYoke



Series: Prohibition AU [5]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, F/F, Glove Kink, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: Spring 1923 - Lapis and Peridot attend a party to make new clients, and it all goes horribly wrong.





	

> _ “Guilt is the most frantic prayer. _
> 
> _ We all wish we could die _
> 
> _ with our worst crime being that we kicked in the womb. _
> 
> _ Tell me, Every coin _
> 
> _ washes clean _
> 
> _ at the bottom of the well.” _
> 
> _           -Andrea Gibson _

 

* * *

* * *

__

It should have been a party like any other she attended on the job, except that this time Lapis had immediately recognised the name and address. The invitation had been handwritten in an impeccable flowing script, gold ink upon eggshell-white cardstock. Glancing down with lazy disinterest -- Lapis always found herself far more relaxed immediately after one of her sessions with Jasper and Peridot -- she did a double take, eyes widening.

Head jerking up from where she sat in the armchair at her apartment, cradling a cup of tea, Lapis flicked the card towards Jasper with her fingers. “Is this some kind of joke?”

The invitation fluttered to the carpet near Jasper’s feet, and Jasper paused in the act of lacing up one of her boots. She looked from the card to Lapis with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean, Deb. Could you dumb it down for us?”

“Don’t -!” Lapis bit back an angry retort. She should know better than to rise to the bait. Instead she steadied herself with a sip of tea, the water still scalding. From the side Lapis could feel Peridot’s eyes on her as she patted her face down with a cloth at the washabsin. As both Peridot and Jasper looked at her curiously, Lapis wondered how much of this was mere happenstance, and how much Jasper actually knew. Over the rim of her cup Lapis announced coolly, “I’m not going.”

She had been having such a wonderful evening until Jasper unceremoniously dumped that damn invitation to Greenwich in her lap. She didn’t want to ruin that now.

“Like hell,” Jasper growled. She tugged hard on the laces of one boot, the muscles in her forearms heavy and corded. “You’re the only one of the group who can speak their language.”

Lapis glared and said through grit teeth, “None of those bluenoses know a lick of Cantonese.”

At that Jasper rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” Then she studied Lapis slyly over one of her broad shoulders. “What’s it to you, anyway? You’ve never been so touchy about a party before.”

For all that Lapis schooled her features into an icy mask, her hands gripped the tea so tightly the blue-patterned porcelain burned her fingers. “It would be -” she cast about for a word that wouldn’t divulge too much on a subject she had absolutely no intention of diving into, “ - _ undiplomatic  _ to send me. That crowd doesn't like me very much.”

Jasper grinned. “You cheat some of them, too?”

Freezing up, Lapis said slowly, “Something like that.”

Not a lie. Not the whole truth either. They certainly thought of Lapis as having cheated them. In a sense.

Jasper grabbed her other boot beside the bed and stomped her heel into it. “You shouldn’t have to see the hosts at all. Our drop off contact is a member of the kitchen staff. Just keep a low profile at the gig, and you should be fine.”

With an exasperated sigh Lapis leaned over to grab the teapot from the floor and refill her cup. “It’s not that simple, you realise. These people would view it as a slight if they didn’t receive a proper introduction.”

“I’ll do it,” Peridot interrupted suddenly.

Lapis paused in the act of setting the teapot back down to regard her. So soon after their session Peridot still wore only an unbuttoned shirt and naught else. The white rumpled fabric hung about her thighs, the skin there riddled with reddening marks from Lapis’ mouth not long previously. Steam from the washbasin rose in the air beside her, and Lapis’ eyes narrowed fractionally before she decided that her velvet gloves hanging over the area weren’t in any danger. 

“ _ You?”  _ Jasper guffawed from her place on the bed. “I’m not letting you anywhere near customers after what happened last time.”

Peridot’s cheeks went pink, but she stood up straighter, defiant and unafraid. “That crumb couldn’t tell the difference between partial and linear differential equations if I wrote it out among the stars! And he had the gall to lecture me! Incorrectly, I might add!” 

“Not happening.” Jasper rose to her feet to pull her suspenders into place with a finality that stopped most conversations in their tracks. Peridot hadn’t seemed to have gotten the memo however.

Draping the warm dampcloth behind her neck, Peridot gripped both ends, affecting the bored nasally tone she got when explaining what she considered an easy problem to a simpleton. A tone which made Jasper’s jaw set into a bullish line. “Listen. I need to head up that way regardless. Someone’s been tampering with my operations in Ridgefield again, and I need to repair a few of the continuous stills. It’s just down the road from Greenwich. We can kill two birds with one stone.”

Squinting suspiciously down at Peridot, Jasper chewed on the inside of one cheek, contemplating the matter at hand. Then she turned to Lapis and jabbed a finger in her direction. “I want you to drill her on all the proper etiquette and whatever other bullshit she’ll need to pass for high society for ten minutes. And you -!” Jasper rounded on Peridot, who -- in her defense -- only quailed slightly. “Don’t mess this up.”

Peridot gave an offended little huff, then turned back to the washbasin to hang up the towel. “I can handle one conversation, thanks.”

When she began to tear into her fingernails with her teeth -- a bad habit of hers that left her nails short but ragged -- Lapis sighed. Setting down her teacup, Lapis rose to her feet, tying the belt of her silk robe loosely shut as she crossed her small apartment. Gently she pulled Peridot’s hand from her mouth, ignoring the startled look Peridot gave her when she inspected her fingernails.

“We’ll have to start by getting you a proper manicure,” Lapis muttered, turning Peridot’s hands over between her own. Glancing up, she ran a hand through Peridot’s short hair so that it stuck up in all directions. “And some pomade.”

From the other side of the room Jasper laughed at Peridot’s expression of steadily growing alarm when she realised exactly what she’d gotten herself into. Then, bending down, Jasper picked up the invitation and walked over to the washstation to tuck it into the front of Lapis’ robe. “The party is in two days. You’ll be needing this. Pickup and dropoff details are on the back.” She plucked her jacket off the nearby stand and shrugged into it. Grinning wolfishly, she leaned over so that she was eye-level with Lapis. “Kiss?”

With an aggrieved sigh Lapis nonetheless offered her cheek. It had, after all, been an otherwise excellent evening. She could afford to indulge Jasper this once. If anything Jasper seemed miffed at the cheek, but pressed her lips to it nonetheless. Then she rounded on Peridot with a good-natured growl of, “You too, you chunk of lead,” before swooping down on her. Peridot squawked indignantly at the attention, and when their usual antics started up Lapis decided she wasn’t feeling  _ that  _ indulgent. 

“Alright. Both of you -” Lapis pointed imperiously to the door. “-out.”

Grumbling, Peridot gathered her things and dressed herself as quickly as she could while Jasper waited at the door. Lapis sat back down in her chair and pretended to engross herself in a book and her cup of tea until they left together. The door shut behind them, leaving her alone, and for a few moments she listened to their bickering fade and drift away down the hall. When she was sure they had long gone, Lapis reached into her robe and pulled out the invitation once more.

With a tilt the card revealed an impression that shone across its surface as the low lamplight glanced over it -- the image of a stately mansion stamped into the thick paper. Columns and square windows and a pediment like an old Greek temple. Lapis’ mouth thinned to a narrow line, and she contemplated burning the invitation and telling Jasper to kindly go to hell. Instead she sighed and proceeded to use it as a bookmark. Evidence of their earlier fortnightly engagement was strewn across Lapis’ room -- silk cords tethered to the bedposts, a blindfold draped atop the vanity -- but where normally Lapis would drink her tea and bask in the afterglow in a leisurely silence, now she only worried at the corner of the invitation sticking out from between the pages of her book with restless fingers.

So much for her lovely evening.

 

* * *

At a place like this even the back kitchen entrance reeked of money. The broadleaf hickories were pruned back, every shrub clipped to perfection, the lawn a tame lush carpet of green all the way to the waterline. Lapis eyed the white-painted walls of the mansion with distaste as they walked up to the tall open doors. More than once she fidgeted with the kidskin gloves that guarded her arms nearly up to the shoulder, ill at ease and unable to calm the constant sinking sensation in her stomach. 

At her side Peridot shifted uncomfortably in the stiff tux hugging her figure. In the early evening light her hair looked sleek and shiny, parted rigidly down one side as though with a knife’s edge. “Are you sure this is fitted properly?” she asked for the second time since they drove over from the hotel room, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves.

“It’s fine. Stop fussing.” The hypocrisy of Lapis’ words stung, but she shoved that aside, forcing her own hands to relax. 

The flight up to Connecticut earlier that afternoon had been short lived, but even so Lapis had relished the chance to be up in the air. Peridot had suggested they simply drive, and while Lapis’ reasoning that air traffic was far less policed was sound, she knew it had just been an excuse to take the chance to soothe her nerves. Flying always put her right, even if only for a short while. As they approached the mansion Lapis longed for nothing more than to flee back to her set of wings and fly off as far away from this place as she could on a single tank of fuel. 

They stopped at the entrance together, and Lapis guided them to the side so as to get out of the way of the work staff bustling about, preparing for the imminent arrival of guests. Craning her neck, Lapis searched any passing face for one she recognised and was only mildly relieved when she saw none. When she turned back around it was to find Peridot running her hands through her hair and grimacing.

“Don’t.” Lapis reprimanded. She tried to keep the sharpness from her voice, but she could hear the finely honed edge there in spite of her best efforts. Shaking her head, Lapis grit her teeth past the acidic surge of guilt that washed up her throat for taking out her frustrations on Peridot. “Our contact is just inside. I’ll engage him in unloading everything, and you’ll be taken to the front to meet the host.”

Peridot cast an appraising eye over the finely trimmed grounds, the liveried staff bearing silver-backed trays, the rooftops high and steeply gabled. "Who are these people anyway?"

"Old guard." Lapis answered gravely. "Old money. Old name. Old ideals. Old everything. Which means you can't afford to make any mistakes." Peridot was fussing with her hair again, and Lapis reached up to touch her gently on the wrist. It was only a simple gesture, but with the gloves on it gave them both pause. Peridot looked up at her with faint disbelief -- Lapis never touched her with gloves on outside of far more intimate situations -- and Lapis drew closer, lowering her voice. "Do you remember what I taught you?"

A frown of irritation marred the otherwise glazed look on Peridot's face. "I am a genius, remember. I think I can handle one introduction."

Lapis snorted. "You can invent your way out of any situation, but God help you if you have to talk your way out of one."

"I'm not-" Peridot trailed off to a sullen grumble. "-that bad." She raised her hand to nervously fix her hair again, but stopped herself.

Giving her a reassuring smile, Lapis straightened the bow tie at Peridot's throat though it did not require the attention. "You look nice. Just remember what I told you. Don't ramble. And whatever you do -- don’t mention me."

"Right." Peridot took a deep breath. “ _ Right.”  _ When she squeezed her eyes shut to steady herself, a lock of hair curled rakishly across her forehead, Lapis fought down the urge to tug her around a corner and kiss her senseless. That could wait until later. When both their stomachs weren't a roiling mess.

As soon as they stepped foot in the manor, they were awash with light. Lapis had worn a dark gown in the hopes that she could blend into a formalwear crowd should such a situation arise, but here she felt dipped in gold. The kitchen was sheathed all in marble and oak, cutlery polished to a mirror shine, hors d’oeuvres arranged in small lavish piles. Looking at them, Lapis couldn’t summon even a drop of hunger.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” One of the staff barked at them when Peridot almost bumped into him.

Immediately Peridot moved aside, whereas Lapis stepped forward. “We’re looking for Lars. We’re here to make a drop off.”

He peered up at her for the first time noticing her beyond the fact that she and Peridot had been in his way as he moved through the kitchen. “Yeah. I’m Lars. You here with Steven and his gang?”

At that Lapis blinked. “Steven’s here?” She knew Peridot must have been listening intently, but curiosity got the better of her.

Lars merely shrugged, tugging at his richly tailored waistcoat. “Might be. He’s usually the one to deliver good hooch.” 

“Ah.” Lapis did not breathe any easier. This was just one more complication to a night she was already dreading. “Not this time, it would seem.”

“No matter. Hey, Sadie!” Lars bellowed over Lapis’ shoulder, gesturing for someone to join them. A squat young woman with a kind face and a kinder smile ambled over, wiping her hands dry on a towel. Lars pointed at Lapis. “This here bird needs to be taken to Mr. Graves.”

Hands clenching into fists, Lapis cut him off sharply. “Not me. My associate will be speaking with Mr. Graves.” Lapis jerked her head towards Peridot, who cleared her throat and stepped forward with an expression of affected calm.

Lars looked dubious. He looked between Peridot and Lapis, saying slowly, “And you’ll be doing…?” He trailed off with a questioning look at Lapis.

Crossing her arms, Lapis arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be overseeing your unloading of the merchandise.”

He gave her expensive gloves a flat stare -- clearly understanding that she wouldn’t be helping him do any of the heavy lifting -- then groaned, “Fine.” As he turned to stalk off, she heard him grumble about how at least Steven’s people bothered to lift a finger.

“Don’t mind him,” Sadie assured both of them with a disarming smile. She folded her towel over one arm and held a hand out, gesturing for Peridot to follow her into another room. “This way please, sir.”

If the title bothered Peridot in any way, she didn’t show it. If anything she seemed to take it in stride, placing her hands at the small of her back as Sadie led her away and asking politely, “How long have you been working here, miss?”

“Oh, not long! Lars and I tend to drift from job to job around these parts.”

Their voices faded as they descended further into the bowels of the mansion, and the heavy carved door swung shut behind them. Alone, Lapis stood in the kitchen crowded with all manner of luxury goods as though she had stumbled into a hidden vault, staring at the door Peridot had disappeared behind and frantically clawing her reserve back into place. Her stomach heaved itself into her chest. She thought she might be sick. 

“Are you coming or what?” Lars called from behind her.

Reluctant, Lapis turned back. 

“This you?” Lars jerked his thumb at the wagon Lapis and Peridot had driven to the manor. 

With a nod, Lapis yanked the driver door open and pulled herself onto the seat with a practised ease. “Where do you want it?”

“Back it on in over here.” He began to walk in the direction where indicated, and Lapis nodded. The engine coughed to life. She turned the wheel right round and expertly reversed so that the trunk was facing the cold storage entrance right beside the kitchen. When she killed the motor and hopped out, Lars said, “I was expecting you earlier. Would’ve been nice to have this already chilled for the guests. Mr. Graves can be a real pill about that.”

Without answering Lapis opened the back to reveal what lay inside. Before they had ever stepped foot in Connecticut Peridot had arranged for some of their men to greet the two of them on the airstrip with her latest trial project. In the trunk of the vehicle half of the alcohol that could afford to stay warm was packed in the usual straw-filled crates. The other half however was contained in heavy mobile cooling tanks that radiated a chill.

For a long moment Lars said nothing. And then he scratched the back of his neck and admitted grudgingly, “Ok, that’s new.”

Lapis allowed herself an expression of smug satisfaction as she stepped back to allow Lars to begin unloading everything. A surge of pride at Peridot’s continued cleverness brought a small smile to her lips. In the nine months Lapis had known her, Peridot had never failed to impress. Credentials like hers should have landed her a job in any variety of corporation, but instead she was here.

The smile slowly drained away. Whatever glory Lapis had momentarily relaxed into was chased swiftly by the inevitable twinge of guilt. Were this any other life, Peridot could have had far better than this -- a job that paid well but offered her little to no future prospects. It was a pale fortune that made an otherwise brilliant mind stagnate and decay.

Beyond the horizon the sun had well and truly set by the time Lars finished. The trees cast long skeletal shadows across the fields, and the moon veiled itself in clouds, elusive as a shade glimpsed through night-burdened boughs. Nervously Lapis pressed the quirks between her knuckles and watched the door for any sign of Peridot. She was late. She should have been finished by now. Already guests were arriving out front, stepping down from their sleek luxury vehicles before the Graecian entrance and flashing their invitations as though they were gilded with platinum. Lapis’ own invitation burned a hole in her handbag, and more than once she found her hand drifting toward it the way one might pick at a scab. 

Other members of the waitstaff had begun to tap into the cold storage unit, pulling out armfuls of bottles. Stepping out of their way, Lapis wandered over to the side of the mansion to better observe the kitchen entrance in the hopes of spotting Peridot. There she fretted with the chain of her bag, each link gleaming bright as a coin in the light issuing from the nearby window. She perked up at every figure who emerged from the kitchens, only to fall into a state of further anxiety when it turned out to be the wrong person.

“You finished here?”

At the sound of a familiar voice directly behind her Lapis whirled about. It was automatic to reach for the gun strapped to one thigh, though she knew it was a fruitless gesture. Seeing who it was however, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Peridot.” Lapis looked around in confusion. “Where did you come from? No matter.” With a crook of her finger she gestured for Peridot to follow her nearer to the wall around the corner away from prying eyes. Once there she lowered her voice, conspiratorial. “How did it go? What took you so long?”

Peridot gave her a bemused look, and even gilded in the low light she was as easy to read as ever. “It was fine. He just talked me half to death is all.” Her tone grew dry. “You were right about the antique coin collection by the way. As soon as I mentioned that it was suddenly ‘old boy this’ and ‘old boy that.’ He wants us to supply for another gig in three weeks.” The last she announced with pride, brushing her shiny manicured nails against her lapel. When that elicited no response from Lapis however, Peridot’s face fell. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Lapis lied. Through the window she could spy the early guests congregating, glimmering and somber in their evening best like grim-feathered vultures. The thought of joining them made her gut clench.

Clearly Peridot didn’t believe her. “Are you sure?” she said slowly. “I could stay, you know.”

Peridot certainly looked the part, Lapis mused. She could blend into that crowd seamlessly. Eventually though they would notice. They would spot the aberration in their midst and drag her to the gallows. Lapis shook her head. “You shouldn’t be bogged down like this.”

“If it’s with you, I don’t mind.”

It hurt. That kind of earnestness hurt.

“No.” Lapis said firmly. No matter how hard she tried, the reassuring smile she fixed into place felt cheap. She wanted Peridot to be gone. She wanted Peridot to stay. She wanted Peridot to never see her in this environment, with these people. She wanted -- “Don’t let me keep you here.”

Dubious, Peridot nonetheless relented. “Will you be alright if I take the car?”

“Don’t worry.” Lapis insisted. “I’ll find a way back somehow. I always do.”

With a nod Peridot began to turn away, but then she stopped and said seriously. “I do have an important question to ask you.”

Lapis’ mouth went dry, and she could hear the roar of blood in her ears like waves swallowing her whole. “What is it?”

“Do you really think I look good?”

Shocked at the question, Lapis laughed, a relieved and unhindered sound broken only by an undignified snort. Peridot stood, smiling softly at her, and Lapis couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss her right there in the shadowed eaves as night draped a blanket of stars along the horizon. It was tinged with desperation, the way Lapis pulled her in close, locking her hands into the cloth of Peridot’s tuxedo jacket, the way she pressed Peridot against the cold manor wall, the way she chased after the small noise at the back of Peridot’s throat. She wanted to steal away every last breath, like a diver gasping above the water before something yanked her beneath the surface. 

The kiss did not last long, but by the time they parted for air Lapis’ mouth was a carmine smear of lipstick. Peridot’s eyes held a glazed look, and she swayed forward to kiss her again before stopping herself. Briefly Lapis considered rucking up her skirts and pushing Peridot’s head down between her legs, but she only shook her head. An uneasy breath unspooled from her, and Lapis leaned her forehead onto Peridot’s shoulder, closing her eyes. Peridot’s hand came up to card through short dark hair. Lapis allowed herself only a fleeting moment to enjoy the sensation before stepping away.

Fishing around in her bag for her mirror and lipstick, Lapis forced a steady note into her voice. “You should go. I’ll meet you back at the hotel room later tonight.”

Peridot at least had the good sense to wipe at the red smears on her mouth with the back of her hand before she mumbled a hurried goodbye and turned to leave. Lapis pretended to be engrossed in touching up her lipstick so she didn’t have to watch her walk away. Regardless she caught a glimpse of Peridot rounding the corner in the mirror before she could snap it shut. 

Muted strains of music floated through the windows, an off-kilter rag echoing as though from the bottom of a well. Lapis fixed the line of a seam running along her inner arm, though the glove did not need the attention. It was a short walk around to the front entrance, and soon she was presenting her invitation to a dour-faced man. He glanced at it then ushered her inside with a shallow bow. She hated that he did not hesitate. She hated that upon inspection she so clearly belonged in a place like this. Stone steps were cut into the earth upon the mansion’s sunken pediment, and -- steeling herself -- Lapis took the plunge.

All around her the house glittered like the tomb of a grand prince. Every facet was gilded, chandeliers winking back drops of light, gold leaf spread delicately across the ceiling, wealth poured upon wealth. The cream of high society flocked, well-heeled people flush and rolling in fields of green clover. A server offered Lapis a tray of champagne, myriad crystal glasses brimming with amber liquid. She declined. The temptation to drink was overruled by her desire to remain sober; she couldn’t afford a slip up here.

Her eyes scanned the gathering. Lapis noted faces, recognising some faintly, though none leapt out at her. She tucked away the location of exits and escape routes and hideaways as though they were riches or precious stones in their own right. Other members of the congregation regarded her in return, weighing the fine cut of her gown, the brand of her shoes. When two young women approached her, Lapis fixed a false smile into place and went to work. 

The first sale was always the most difficult. She turned down every offer of drink and food. She tensed at every brush up against her. She played the part to the best of her abilities until all the old social graces came rushing back to her, and then she despised herself for falling into the role so easily. For a spell it almost felt like business as usual, selling booze at future engagements of a similar ilk to rich ne’er-do-wells already well on their way to ossification. Somewhere along the way -- about two hours into the gig -- Lapis allowed herself to be lulled into the rhythm of things, losing herself in the familiar ebb and flow. 

“Lapis? Is that you?”

A hand on her forearm, and Lapis snatched her arm away as though prodded with a cattle brand. Eyes wide, she cast around for who had addressed her -- mind already racing towards the nearest exit -- until she looked down. “Steven!” The relief that raced through her was palpable, like gulping down a glowing coal. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Steven was grinning broadly up at her, looking very dashing with his tuxedo and slicked back hair. He had a dark smudge of what looked to be ink over his upper lip, and Lapis had to tamp down the urge to take off one of her gloves, lick her thumb, and wipe the blemish clean. “I was supposed to supply for this party, but then Mr. Graves went with someone else instead. But that’s alright! I still get to attend as a guest!” He struck a theatrical pose, brushing imaginary dust from one of his shoulders.

Lapis felt her smile tarnish. That she should still treasure the opportunity to see him again even under such circumstances sent a lance through her. “That’s -” she cleared her throat. “That’s a shame.”

“No, it’s fine! I get to see you, don’t I?” Steven beamed, and his enthusiasm -- for all her buried fears -- was infectious.

Her own smile dimpled in return, yet her eyes darted around. “You came alone?” Lapis asked, incredulous.

“Oh, no. Pearl and Amethyst are here somewhere.” He looked over his shoulder, but before he could find them in the crowd he was distracted by a platter of food offered to him. His eyes lit up. “Thanks!” Steven filled his hands with flaky pastries, then stopped to stare at the server. “Sadie! You’re here, too?”

“Hi, Steven.” Sadie grinned, then offered the plate to Lapis. “Miss?”

“Thank you, but no.” Lapis paused in the act of waving her away. Pointing at the towel that hung over Sadie’s arm, she asked. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Sadie offered her arm. Taking the towel -- upon careful inspection it seemed perfectly clean -- Lapis bent down and gestured with her free hand for Steven to look at her. Quizzically he did so, only to grimace when Lapis began to wipe at his face. He balked, but with his hands full of pastry he could do little more than whine at the attention.

“How did you even get ink on your face?” Lapis chided with a huff of laughter.

The skin about his lip and part way across his chubby cheek went pink from the towel rubbing across it. “I wanted to look dapper, so Amethyst helped me draw a moustache on, but Pearl didn’t like it. I thought I got it all off.”

With a snort, Lapis finished the job, then handed the towel back to Sadie with a murmur of thanks. Sadie nodded pleasantly and waved goodbye to Steven before continuing on her rounds. Somehow when Lapis looked back Steven had already managed to smear his face with fresh cream and bits of chocolate. Hand on hip, Lapis fixed Steven with a look of faux severity. “I can’t say much for your tastes, kid.”

His response came out muffled through a mouthful of pastry. “My sense of taste is impeccable.” He swallowed then puffed up his chest, rising up on his toes to make himself appear taller. “And you won’t be able to call me ‘kid’ for much longer! My birthday is coming up soon!”

“Is that so?” Lapis crossed her arms. “How soon, exactly?”

At that he deflated somewhat. Stuffing another pastry into his mouth, he mumbled, “Four months.”

Lapis smiled as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Well, that should give me plenty of time to find you the perfect gift.” 

His brown eyes went wide as saucers, and Steven gasped. “Is it going to be a plane ride? Oh, I love flying with you!”

She wagged an admonishing finger and clucked her tongue. “It’s a surprise.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Said a voice directly behind her, and Lapis felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. “This is -- indeed -- quite the surprise.”

The sinking sensation that had dried up for a few rare moments in Steven’s company came flooding back in full force. Her chest felt constricted, and Lapis knew she must look green around the gills. Stiffly, slowly, she turned around to face the host of the party.

Thaddeus Graves had a face in two halves. The top half was like looking into a Venetian mask, eyes fixed and unblinking beneath a helm of sleek silvered hair. In contrast his mouth moved in a silky smile, revealing too many teeth, animate and sharp, pale and clean-shaven. “Miss Buell,” he greeted her with a voice like velvet, dark and cultured. “Or -- what name did your mother take?  _ Leung?  _ Was that it?”

“Mr. Graves,” Lapis replied. She could not bring herself to say that it was a pleasure when even opening her mouth made nausea coil in her lungs, serpent-slick.

“How the devil did you manage to get by my dogs?” As he raised his hand to lift a glass of bubbling champagne to his lips, a heavy signet ring winked golden on one finger.

Lapis knew Steven was watching her reaction curiously. She knew how taut she must look, how statuesque, how unreal. To her own ears her words sounded lifeless. “I have an invitation.”

“You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” Thaddeus held out his hand and when she instinctively took a half-step back, his smile broadened. “May I see it?”

The bright lights forced a trickle of sweat down Lapis’ spine. As she reached for her bag and withdrew the slip of paper requested, her eyes darted around, seeking a gap in the mass of bodies enclosing her on all sides in this mausoleum of a house, wondering how far she would get before Thaddeus’ sleuth hounds caught up with her. Wordlessly, Lapis handed the invitation over, wrenching her arm back when his fingers came too near her own.

Mr. Graves turned the card over. Upon seeing the name written on the front, his teeth glinted with a cold light. “The Diamond Corporation! So, you’re the one who supplied this gathering! Your mother would be so proud of how high you’ve risen -- God rest her soul.”

“What -?” Steven stared at her, and she could see the sudden realisation dawning on his face.

Gritting her teeth, she said, “Steven, you should go.”

“But -?”

“ _ Go.”  _ Her voice was too sharp, too hard. She was hewn from granite, from finest Pentelic marble.

With a hurt yet concerned expression, Steven did as he was told. Lapis watched the reluctant stoop of his shoulders until he disappeared into the morass. 

“Miss Leung -” Thaddeus began.

“Don’t call me that.” Lapis snapped. The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to snatch them from the air and hoard them away once more. Her hands clenched into fists. Shame and anger swelled up in her chest, making it difficult to speak, to breathe.

Thaddeus was suffused with a vicious delight. “Miss Leung,” he said again with greater emphasis, tucking the invitation into his jacket pocket and turning the glass of champagne in his other hand. “There’s someone who would just die to see you again. I see her now, in fact.” He raised his hand and waved for someone to join them, but when Lapis tried to inch away and vanish into the crowd he blocked her path. 

Lapis saw who it was that approached, and she swallowed thickly past the tightening around her throat. This was a nightmare enfleshed. Tense, Lapis crossed her arms in front of her chest as though preparing to ward off a physical blow. 

The woman crossing the river of people to join them continued until she stood directly before Lapis. Irene Buell’s hair had gone fully grey at the temples, broad sterling streaks through the patented fawn-coloured Buell locks gathered at the nape of her neck. Swathed all in black, she looked exactly as she did in Lapis’ memories, something of the undertaker in her dress, in her heavy-lidded gaze, something dour and mongering. 

Lapis could vividly remember the last time she had seen her. At the time Lapis had been nearly eleven years old. On and on her mother languished in her parlour, but she had sluggishly roused herself to carefully dress Lapis for a family function. With thorough instructions on how to behave, how to walk, how to speak, how to sit, how to eat -- not like that, darling, use the fork -- Lapis was paraded through rank upon rank of a side of her family she rarely had contact with. A whole sea of people, tall and russet and pale-eyed, and she waded through their midst, a child small and dark like a crag jutting from the water. 

She mingled with cousins who knew her solely through reputation, who recited their parents’ rhetoric. She was from baser stock. She was greedy, green-grabbing, gold-digging. She was an untrustworthy foreign upstart just like her father. No matter how she tried, they mined straight through every painstaking measure of decorum until -- at last -- she snapped. The Cantonese slipped easily from her mouth, a bitter snarl of words Lapis had heard her father mutter under his breath when he accidentally broke a mug in the kitchen. 

The whole assembly had gone stock still at her outburst. They stared. They whispered behind cupped fingers. The awful dread crept into her stomach at the look of shock on her father’s face, while Irene had stormed up and hissed in her mother’s ear,  _ “Get that child out of here.” _

Now, nearly sixteen years later, Irene smiled politely between Lapis and Mr. Graves, balancing a half-drunk glass of champagne in one hand. “Who is this vision you've dug up, Thad?”

Rather than answer her directly, Thaddeus turned to Lapis and said. “My dear, may I introduce Irene Buell, a good family friend. I’m sure you must have heard of her?”

Lapis gave a mute nod, but Irene held out her hand. Staring down at it, Lapis slowly tugged her glove free. The leather dragged over the crook of her elbow, and when she took Irene’s hand her fingers shook. 

Irene did not seem to notice. She clasped Lapis’ hand limply with her own before pulling her arm back to fondle the rope of glossy pearls around her neck. “What brings you to this little fête?” 

“I was just getting to the bottom of that myself.” Thaddeus beamed between the two of them. When a server came around, he drained his glass, deposited it on the waiter’s tray, then picked up another. “Did I hear you correctly just earlier? You were offering to give that young gentleman a fly?”

“Yes.” The lone syllable tasted like ashen bone in Lapis mouth. She rushed to tug the glove back into place, feeling exposed to the air, exhumed.

“An aviatrix!” Irene raised her glass as though in a small toast before taking a sip. “What an unorthodox hobby for a young lady!”

“And would I be correct in assuming you flew yourself here tonight?” Thaddeus pressed.

Lapis considered -- not for the first time in the last few minutes -- upending the champagne in his face and using the distraction to make a run for the nearest window. She thought of walking all the way back to the hotel in her heels. The monumental blisters would be worth it. Instead she answered, “I did.”

“It must be wonderful. Being able to just -” he made a soaring motion with his free hand, whistling a single note through his teeth. “-rise above it all.”

“How did you ever take it up?” Irene asked.

“My -” Clearing her throat, Lapis forged onwards. “My father was a pilot who served in the war.”

If anything the genuine tone of Irene’s voice only made Lapis’ hands clamp more tightly where they rested along her crossed arms. “There’s something wonderful about a father who dotes on his daughter.” Irene tilted her head. “Did he buy you a plane or -?” She trailed off, questioning.

Here, Lapis was stuck. She couldn’t very well admit that she'd won her Jenny in a crooked card game down by the Virginia air base, though by the way Thaddeus watched her intently -- the way a wolf watched the movements of a hare -- Lapis had no doubt he would have relished the information. “There was a competition. I won it there.”

Not a lie, but she didn’t need to mention the two hundred dollars and the case of aged whiskey she had also swindled out of the deal.

“Remarkable.” Thaddeus said. “What can’t you do, my dear?”

The way he was smiling at her made Lapis’ skin crawl. His pale gaze gleamed, ore-like and polished and keen. Lapis heard her own flippant reply as though from a great distance, as though muffled through layers of soil. “Not long ago I might have said ‘vote,’ but I suppose even that is within my grasp these days. I hear that’s what did Cardinal Gibbons in.”

Lapis’ irreverence earned her a shocked look from Irene and a burst of belly-deep laughter from Thaddeus. “Well!” Irene gave what outwardly appeared to be a good-natured huff. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you invited such liberal ideals into your home, Thad."

“Oh, I enjoy surrounding myself with mixed crowds, you might say.” He winked at Lapis, who shifted surreptitiously.

Irene turned her attention to Lapis, somehow managing to sound at once patronising and infuriatingly civil. “Speaking ill of the dead is poor form for anyone, regardless of politics.”

“You’re right.” Lapis shot back. “After all, once passed he did proclaim it a woman’s civic duty. If only all his flock were so inclined.”

With a pointed smile, Irene’s brow furrowed in polite bemusement, “I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name, Miss -?”

“Why, don’t you recognise her?” Thaddeus placed his hand on Lapis’ shoulder only for her to shrug him off with a pained grimace. “Miss Lapis Leung. Or -- was it Lazuli? Forgive me, my memory’s gone a bit rusty.”

At last the horror of realisation washed over Irene, and Lapis watched -- her stomach curdling -- as the transformation twisted her face into a mask of ugly quiet fury. Bright splotches of ruby colour darkened her cheeks, and her eyes silvered into glass shards. When Irene spoke her voice lowered to a poisonous hiss.  _ “You.”  _

“Now, now,” Thaddeus chided with barely restrained glee. “We should be toasting this lively family reunion! After all, your niece worked so hard to get here!"

Ignoring his act, Irene rounded on him. “You actually invited this - this -!” She jabbed a reproachful finger in Lapis’ direction. 

Before she could actually find a term that properly summed up her thoughts on Lapis’ character he said with a snort, “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited her employer.” With horror Lapis watched him pull out her invitation from his pocket and pass it over to Irene as proof with a cheery, “It’s always a pleasure to see the Buell family represented among such tasteful circles.”

Lapis’ heart was pounding in her chest, a rapid bruit that drowned out everything to a noiseless static. Heat rose up through the floor, creeping at first, then to a raging pyre. Before either Irene or Thaddeus could say another word, Lapis heard herself mutter dimly, “Excuse me. I need to...I have to...Excuse me.” 

Pushing blindly through the congregation, she fled and they let her go. Thaddeus had his fun at a rival's expense, and Irene would likely want to return to forgetting Lapis ever existed. She and Lapis had that in common. She shouldn’t have taken this job, Lapis thought as she stumbled on a gentleman's shoe and had to catch herself on a pillar before pressing onward, deeper into the house, always downward. She shouldn’t have been so careless. She shouldn’t have been - 

Left turn. Flight of stairs down. Hot amber lights; they scorched the lavish walls. And always the throng of bodies crowding every hallway. At last Lapis found solace in a mercifully empty water closet. Hand scrambling for the bolt, she locked the heavy wooden door behind her. Here the noise of the outside world faded away, but still her chest resounded with the mad headlong racing of her heart. Unsteady, she pushed herself away from the door and towards the washbasin, wrenching the long leather gloves down her arms as she went. She didn’t even bother with folding them carefully away into her bag. Instead she tossed them hastily down onto the bench beside the basin, then twisted the taps.

Water streamed into the copper-trimmed basin. Cold. Cold enough to sting when she thrust her hands beneath the spray. A bar of colourless scentless soap sat on a tray before the large oval-shaped mirror that loomed in front of her, and Lapis snatched it up. Frantic, she scrubbed at her hands, between her fingers, along her forearms, all the way up to her elbows, until her skin was pink and raw. As she worked, her breathing grew sharp and shallow. Short rapid pants escaped her, and her vision fogged around the edges. At one point the soap slipped from her grasp, tumbling into the mirror and sending a narrow crack unevenly through the glass. Lapis paused to grip the edges of the basin and lean her weight forward.

She glanced up. Unknowingly she had chewed away her lipstick until her mouth and teeth were an uneven smear of red. Fumbling with her bag, Lapis pulled out the tube of lipstick but when she tried to reapply it, her hands trembled. A small wretched noise clawed at the back of her throat, and Lapis threw the metal tube back down, reaching into the basin to cup her hands beneath the water. Furiously she scoured the powders and rouge from her face, raking her hands through her hair. When she finally turned the water off and looked up, her hair was a dark slicked mess curling at her unpainted jawline. 

Like this -- free of cosmetics -- it was far easier to see her parents war across her face. Her father’s black hair and high cheeks clashed with her mother’s tapering chin and patrician nose. Her father’s tongue and her mother’s eyes and a family that despised both. Here the culmination, the ultimate embodiment of their combined failures. 

Steadying her breathing, Lapis closed her eyes and listened to the sluice of water through pipes. Her damp skin grew clammy, but the mansion stifled. Lapis straightened, though as she started to collect her things she paused. Her gloves lay crumpled on the bench, coiled like twin snakes. At the thought of wearing them again and carrying the memories of this night close to her skin, her lip curled in a silent snarl. Kicking the wastebin over from the corner, she swept the gloves off the bench and into the trash with her handbag so as not to actually touch them. Then she turned, unbolted the door, and marched from the water closet in search of an exit from this hellhole. 

Navigating the labyrinthine manor, Lapis eventually clambered from a low level balcony exit into the night air. Spring still held the touch of a cool wintry breeze, but she relished the opportunity to breathe easier again. A scattering of clouds gathered on the horizon over the water, and she could smell rain only a few hours away. With a sigh, she slung her handbag over her shoulder and took a moment to gather herself before setting off in the direction of the hotel. 

She got only a few steps across the lawn, when she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind her. Lapis couldn’t even summon a vague interest in reaching for her gun. Instead she looked to see who it was this time.

Perhaps the last person she wanted to see now was Steven. Perspiration beaded on his brow, and he had undone the stifling bowtie at his neck as though he'd just sprinted a mile. “Lapis! We -!” he took a step forward, then stopped and admitted timidly, “We were looking all over for you."

Tired, Lapis pinched the bridge of her nose. “ _ We?”  _ she repeated, but then shook her head. “What do you want?” 

“I wanted to talk to you. About what Mr. Graves said back there.” Steven began, but his voice trailed off when Lapis took a step back, crossing her arms defensively.

She wished she had something to cover her arms. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the tremor out of her fingers. “I’d really rather not.”

He was torn, she could see it. His hand made an abortive movement as though he wanted to reach out to her, but had to remind himself to not do so. Then, inhaling deeply, he straightened and announced firmly, “Lapis Lazuli, come work for me instead.”

Lapis stared at him in absolute astonishment. Steven stood a good head and shoulders below her, and still he met her gaze with a fierce sincerity, his jaw squared with determination. “Steven, I -” her voice cracked, and she had to look away to the moon-gilded treeline. “I don’t deserve this.”

A wind sloughed through the trees, rustling the underbrush as though stirred by the passing of animal life, and Lapis focused on that rather than the burning in her eyes when Steven replied. “What are you talking about? Of course you do! You’re my friend, and who you work for won’t change that!” He stepped forward and repeated, “Come work for me.”

“That’s not it. I’m no good. I’m-” She closed her eyes. She refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. Swallowing thickly, Lapis put as much steel into her words as she could muster, “Thank you, but I can’t accept this kindness. I can’t. Please don’t ask me again.” 

He made a sound as though he wanted to speak, but before he could say anything two others emerged from the mansion. Wreathed in the golden light of an open door, it took Lapis a moment to make out their features clearly. On the other hand they recognised her immediately, and both dashed forward to position themselves between Lapis and Steven.

“Get away from him!” Pearl growled, her voice low. Beside her Amethyst wrapped her fist with a long dangerous chain so that it swung just above the ground at their feet. 

“Pearl, it’s fine! This is the friend I was telling you about!” Steven insisted, but she ignored him.

“She was one of the people in Charleston! Her colleague gave me this!” Pearl pointed to the scar forming on her forehead, still pink and livid from their encounter a few months ago. 

“Yeah, we've come across her plenty before! And let me tell you -- she wasn't feeling very friendly then!” Amethyst added. The chain clinked, and Lapis’ eyes narrowed.

Lapis didn't think she could have wanted this night to be over even more, but it seemed to be continually surprising her. “I never actually shot at you,” she pointed out. Though she had thought about it once or twice. 

When Pearl opened her mouth to deliver an angry retort, Steven interrupted her. He stepped forward, arms out, and announced solemnly, “No! No more fighting!” Both Pearl and Amethyst frowned at him, but some of the tension drained from their shoulders. Amethyst’s hand holding the chain lowered somewhat, although two sets of suspicious eyes remained fixed on Lapis. It wasn’t until Steven was sure that the situation had been sufficiently defused that he turned back to Lapis. “Please just promise me if there’s anything I can do to help, you’ll tell me.” 

Lapis was about to tell him that he needn’t have bothered, when she hesitated and glanced over her shoulder towards the darkened gate behind her and the long road beyond. “There is one thing.” Chewing on her lower lip, she said sheepishly, “I don’t suppose I can bum a ride?”

 

* * *

To call this establishment a ‘hotel’ was perhaps taking liberties with the definition of the word. Two stories tall with each flight of stairs up more creaky than the last, the building squatted on a low corner of town. Peridot had insisted on booking the room herself, and at the time Lapis couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Now -- trudging through the dilapidated lobby, occupied only by a bored and aloof receptionist more interested in painting her nails and listening to a radio program than greeting customers -- Lapis realised why. She turned right down a hallway, ignoring the stairs completely, and sloped along to the only rooms on a ground floor in the entire city.

As she stepped into their room and closed the door behind her, Lapis breathed a sigh of relief. This place was mercifully cool, a sharp contrast to the pyre she had escaped not long before. Although ‘escape’ might not be the correct term either; she felt singed, smoking and blackened at the edges.

“How’d it go?”

At the sound of Peridot’s voice, Lapis suddenly irrationally wished she had booked her own room. She wondered if it was too late to leave and climb up to the roof in order to breathe properly and contemplate if two stories was high enough to put her out of her misery. Instead she crossed the room and lowered herself into an armchair in the corner, the faded leather parading itself as a Queen Anne. 

“It was -” Lapis started to say, but stopped. She couldn’t find it in herself to lie anymore, drained of any duplicity she might have once mustered. Dropping her bag to the floor with a soft thunk, Lapis simply leaned her head back and sprawled, nudging the footrest with the toes of her shoes as she did so.

From where she sat upon one of the two beds, surrounded by papers, pencil poised over a personal notebook, Peridot watched. She still wore most of the tuxedo from earlier, though she had shucked the jacket, bowtie, and shoes. The first few buttons at her throat were undone, revealing the hollows above her collarbone. She blinked at Lapis over her round spectacles before pushing them up the bridge of her nose with an officious clearing of her throat. “Something’s wrong. Even I can tell.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Lapis’ voice lowered to a growl aimed at a few cracks in the ceiling, and she glared at the chipped paint. “Nothing  _ new  _ is wrong.”

Peridot lowered her pencil and shut her notebook, folding her hands over them both where they rested in her lap. “What happened?” she asked, careful and curious and not at all demanding.

“I ran into the host. It didn’t go well. I can conclusively say that we won't be supplying for any of Mr. Graves’ future engagements,” Lapis admitted. With a quiet groan she closed her eyes and slumped further into the chair, wishing she could scrub away the memory of the last twenty or so years from her skin. She muttered, “I knew I shouldn't have gone. I don’t belong there. Not with those people. I never have.”

A long silence followed that announcement until Lapis heard a shuffle of papers and a squeak of bedsprings. “I’m glad you made it back in one piece,” Peridot said. 

“Barely.” Lapis gave a derisive snort, then shrugged her shoulders. “A friend gave me a ride back.”

“Was it this Steven I keep hearing about?”

Peridot’s voice sounded suddenly much closer, and Lapis’ eyes snapped open to find her standing nearby. Lapis couldn’t fathom how Peridot always managed to show every little emotion on her expressive face. Lapis knew she should deflect, change the subject, but instead she confessed tiredly, “He tried recruiting me. I refused.”

Peridot’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why? Are you that loyal to HQ?” She paused, thought, then asked tentatively, “Is it because of Jasper?”

“Jasper is -” Lapis waved that notion aside. The last thing she wanted to think about tonight was her ties with Jasper. “It’s just...These options, they masquerade as choices. Maybe they’re real, but all I can see is another trap.”

“You can run away from it all with me.”

Lapis gaped up at her. “ _ What?”  _

If anything Peridot seemed shocked at her own proposal. Her eyes widened and she wrung her hands together. “I mean -” she shuffled her feet, her prosthetic scraping against the floorboards. “I’ve almost paid off all my debt thanks to this job. Thanks to you. We could -- Nevermind.” 

Peridot’s face bloomed with colour and she turned to go back to the bed, presumably to feign sleep and hide beneath the covers. Before she could however, Lapis grabbed her gently by the hand. As she was tugged closer to the chair, Peridot sat atop the footrest so that she was perched just in front of Lapis. Rather than look at her, Lapis fiddled with Peridot’s fingers, admiring the cleanliness, the narrow bridge of knuckles, the angular wrists. Lapis thought of leaving again as she had done before, an act of willful rebellion that had landed her in this position in the first place. She thought of changing her name -- something with less alliteration this time. She thought of throwing it all the wind and the wolves -- her life, her family, her tethers -- and knew that a third time would make it all too real, too irrevocable.

“I can’t.” Lapis murmured, finally looking up to find Peridot searching her face for answers. Her blonde hair was a mussed cowlick after the pomade had been towelled out, and Lapis reached up to run a hand through it. “But you can. You should.”

With a rueful laugh, soft and quiet, Peridot shook her head. She was going to say something irredeemably romantic, Lapis knew, and before she could Lapis leaned forward to kiss her. Hard and urgent. Something to snatch her breath away and rob her mind of thought. The ruse seemed to work, for when Lapis pulled away Peridot swayed after her, blinking in confusion as though lost, swindled out of whatever she had been about to say. 

“I - I was thinking.” When she finally found her voice again, Peridot stammered while Lapis brushed her thumb along her jaw, moving her hand so as to cup Peridot’s cheek. “Last time you tied Jasper down to the bed, and I thought -”

A hungry gleam sharpened Lapis’ gaze before she could stop herself, and she knew it must have shown for Peridot’s face flushed and her voice trailed off to a low mumble. She was gripping Peridot’s chin strong enough to feel the contour of bone, and Lapis forced her fingers to relax. “If you’re suggesting this just to please me -”

“I’m not!” Peridot insisted. “Well, I mean, the fact that it would is….The point I’m trying to make is: that looked like something I’d want to try.”

The temptation of such an offering after so trying an evening gave Lapis pause. Her stomach was a crucible flooded with liquid silver, and Peridot was looking up at her with open honest eyes. The burning reared up in Lapis’ throat at the sudden image of Peridot tethered and squirming against the sheets. The hunger scratched at her ribs. Her fingers itched with brightness. She wondered when exactly this had changed, when this had gone from something she wanted to something she needed.

“Did you bring a necktie with you?” Lapis asked, and when Peridot nodded she continued. “Fetch it for me.”

It took but a moment for Peridot to retrieve the pink-patterned necktie in question from her luggage and return to stand before her. Lapis’ eyebrows raised when she saw the colour, but she smiled when it was handed over. The silk texture folded in her hands like water. Playfully she tapped Peridot’s stomach with its triangular corner and remarked, “The colour suits you.”

By this point Peridot’s entire face matched the tie. She grumbled something barely intelligible about money and more expensive accessories. Leaning back in the chair, Lapis wound the silk between her fingers. With a tilt of her head, she lifted her leg to slowly run her foot along the inner seam of Peridot’s trousers until the heel tip of her shoe rested just above Peridot’s knee. Any and all grumbling came to a grinding halt, and Lapis could see Peridot’s throat work as she swallowed. “You’ll need to strip for this.”

Peridot held up one hand and waggled her fingers. “Won’t you want your gloves, too?”

Immediately Lapis’ grin faded and her mouth took on a grim slant. Gloves only reminded her of the pair she had left behind. She wanted leather sheathing her arms up to the shoulder. She wanted neither a hint of warmth nor contact. She wanted to bury Irene Buell and that side of her entire family alive, just as they had done to her.

“Yes,” Lapis rasped hoarsely, lowering her foot. 

Before she could begin to sit up, Peridot said, “I’ll get it,” and fumbled in the nearby closet for the briefcase. When she returned, Lapis placed the necktie over the arm of the chair and took the briefcase in her lap. The small key gave a steely glint as she twisted it in the lock to the snap of latches springing open. As she lifted the lid, Lapis looked over at Peridot, who still stood in front of her, biting at her fingernails.

“You don’t need to shorten them after you just got a manicure,” Lapis pointed out. “Besides, you won’t be using your fingers tonight.”

“Right. Of course.” Peridot cleared her throat. To stop herself from gnawing at her nails, she instead began to undo the line of buttons at her waistcoat and the crisp white shirt beneath it. 

From her seat Lapis watched with hooded eyes. She divided her attention between the trove in her lap and the economical manner in which Peridot undressed. It was always like watching Peridot at work -- how matter-of-fact, how precise and efficient, tongue peeking from the side of her mouth in concentration when the bulky ankle joint of her prosthetic tangled in her pants. 

Glancing down from the display, Lapis mulled over her choices, but nothing struck her as quite right. She frowned at a set of coral silk Valisères. She lingered over a pair of too-short turquoise Weinbergers. This material was not quite correct. That length did not suit her mood. She ground her teeth when she realised that the pair she actually wanted -- the pair she would have rather burned than ever wear again -- was the pair of Van Raaltes she had left behind in the Graves’ manor.

“Lapis?”

Hearing her name, Lapis started and looked up. She had missed the remainder of the show; Peridot stood completely bare. “Just a moment.” Lapis scowled down at the contents of her briefcase. Finally she resigned herself to a pair of buttery leather Fownes. They would just have to do.

With a click Lapis shut the lid once more, then placed the briefcase aside and rose to her feet. Unlike Jasper, who required a command at every turn, Peridot performed rituals to the letter. Eager to please. Eager to follow rules. It filled Lapis with a lavish sense of satisfaction, twining deep in her chest when Peridot undressed her with the barest of contact, when Peridot knelt on the footrest to unclasp the straps of Lapis’ high-heeled shoes and slide them from her feet. As Peridot tried to stand however, Lapis pressed down with one foot against her thigh. “Stay there,” she murmured. Lapis rather liked this angle. She never could get Jasper to kneel. 

Both feet on the ground once more, Lapis held out the gloves. She shivered when Peridot slipped the first over her knuckles. Up along the forearm to just past her elbow, each quirk pressed between her fingers. With the second though, Peridot’s hand accidentally brushed against her. Lapis recoiled with a ragged hiss from the back of her throat, and when she snatched her arms away she was taken aback to discover her hands were clenched so tightly into fists they trembled.

“Are you alright?” Peridot asked slowly.

“Yes,” Lapis replied even as she shook her head.

Skeptical, Peridot studied her. “We can stop if -?”

“No. I want this.” Lapis said.  _ I need this. _

“Alright.” Peridot sank back to rest on her heels and wait.

It took Lapis a moment to gather herself into action once more, for the feeling of being unearthed to pass. She reached for the necktie where she had left it before rounding the footrest to stand behind Peridot. When she spoke again, she sounded the way uncut stones looked, rough and cold. “Hands behind your back.”   


As dutiful as ever, Peridot complied, crossing her wrists. Lapis moved them so that Peridot’s wrists lay side-by-side at the small of her back. Then, taking the necktie, she looped the silk twice in her hands, pulling them through one another until a simple but effective knot formed. She placed Peridot’s hands through the rudimentary cuffs and pulled on the loose ends until her wrists were bound. 

“Too tight?” she asked when Peridot squirmed.

In answer Peridot only shook her head. Regardless Lapis reached down to check that she could slide a finger between the bonds and Peridot’s wrists. Satisfied, Lapis straightened. She walked her fingers up Peridot’s hunched back, relishing the shudder it earned her. With one hand she spread her palm between Peridot’s shoulderblades, fingers fanning out, feeling the warmth of skin through a layer of fine leather. Maintaining that simple touch, Lapis walked around her, trailing a hand over Peridot’s shoulder, across her collarbone, up along the vulnerable underside of her throat. 

When she reached Peridot’s cheek, Lapis paused. Gently she removed the glasses perched on Peridot’s nose, folding them shut as she sat back on the imitation armchair. Seated as they both were, they remained close enough that Lapis had to part her legs so that they did not yet touch. She placed the spectacles safely atop her briefcase on the floor beside the chair.

Peridot squinted. “I suppose my poor eyesight is good for one thing at least.”

“And what’s that?” Lapis hummed, reached forward to smooth out the creases in Peridot’s brow.

“You don’t need to worry about a makeshift blindfold as well.”

A huff of genuine laughter bubbled up, and Lapis had to bite back a grin. “You straight-laced types always take the fun out of everything.”

“Are we not having fun?” Peridot’s tone hovered somewhere between teasing and self-doubt.

“I never said that,” Lapis breathed. She traced the bridge of Peridot’s nose, the impressions left behind from her glasses there, then down to the bow of Peridot’s upper lip. Tapping with her finger, Lapis ordered, “Open up.”

A brief moment of hesitation followed by a fleeting uncertainty flashed across Peridot’s face before she did so. Lapis waited for the span of a few heartbeats before she slipped two fingers into Peridot’s mouth. The wet heat there steeped into the grain of her gloves, and Lapis’ gaze honed to glittering points when she pressed down against Peridot’s tongue. With her other hand, Lapis touched herself, circling her inner thigh, her stomach, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger while Peridot closed her eyes. Twisting her palm up, Lapis stroked the bluff of Peridot’s cheek with her thumb as her fingers explored the roof of Peridot’s mouth and the ridgeline of her teeth.

Her own breathing grew laboured, and Lapis withdrew her fingers to instead tangle them in Peridot’s hair. Leaning back in the chair, she tugged Peridot’s head down until Peridot was bowed over and Lapis could catch a glimpse of her bound hands. One leg propped over the arm of the chair -- a scratched brass fitting designed to pin the leather into place cool against the inside of her knee -- while Lapis draped the other over Peridot’s shoulder. With her heel against Peridot’s spine, Lapis urged her forward.

At the first touch of Peridot’s mouth against her, Lapis inhaled sharply through grit teeth. The chair was high enough, but still Lapis jutted her hips forward, her shoulders sinking lower in the seat. Kneeling before her, Peridot made a motion with her arms as though unconsciously trying to reach around and touch her only to jerk to a halt, hands tugging at their restraints in vain.

A low groan escaped Lapis and she guided Peridot with a hand at the back of her head. All of the night’s briery tensions wound themselves tightly in the base of her lungs, gripping tight with barbed points, and Lapis gasped at the flick of Peridot’s tongue. The hand cupping her breast moved down, and Lapis gripped another fistful of Peridot’s hair, short strands tangling between her fingers. She pulled Peridot back with a breathless murmur. “Slow down.” 

Peridot’s pupils were blown and her mouth hung slightly open as she panted for air, giving her a glassy expression. Still she nodded. For a split second it appeared that she was going to wipe her chin against the inside of Lapis’ thigh until she thought better of it. She leaned forward to resume, but paused and peered up at Lapis for permission to continue. In answer Lapis drew Peridot forward by the base of her skull.

Head falling back against the padded chair, Lapis let out a shaky sigh. Through hooded eyes she watched Peridot work. Dark brows furrowed, Lapis bit at her lower lip to keep any sound at bay, letting nothing slip aside from the rare short breathy exhalation. The chair creaked beneath her as she shifted, and already Lapis could feel the cheap leather sticking to her shoulders and lower back as a thin sheen of sweat began to form. Her cheeks flared bright with heat, and she knew how flushed she must have looked with her hair still in damp disarray, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. Peridot’s tongue painted languid circles around her clit and Lapis felt in her chest and jaw a slow twisting as of fraying rope.

As the sensation mounted, Lapis clutched at Peridot’s hair like a lifeline. The movement of her hips grew increasingly irregular, and her breathing was reduced to ragged pants, a hard rasp of air in her lungs. Lapis dug her fingers into the back of Peridot’s head to hold her in place as she bucked with a moan stifled behind clenched teeth. The orgasm swept through her, a long wave, until every muscle gradually unwound and Lapis sank back into the chair bonelessly.

It took her a minute to recover fully, and when she did it was to find Peridot resting her weight upon Lapis’ inner knee, forehead pressed into the soft skin there. Lapis tapped her ear to get Peridot’s attention before swinging her legs free so that her feet were planted on the floor. Sitting upright, Lapis grasped Peridot by the shoulders so that she would not tip over where she knelt, and then Lapis leaned forward to kiss her. Peridot’s mouth was slick beneath her, wetness smeared across the lower half of her face, and she whimpered into Lapis’ kiss.

Pulling away Lapis asked, “How are your knees?”

“What -?” Peridot’s eyelids fluttered, then she winced when she shifted upon the footstool. “Ow.”

With a smirk, Lapis pushed at Peridot’s sternum with one finger, driving her back until she stumbled to her feet. Standing as well, Lapis pressed her backwards until Peridot’s legs hit the edge of one of the beds across the cramped room. Peridot wavered upright before dropping down on the mattress. She yanked her wrists at the necktie when Lapis sank down atop her, straddling her lap. 

Lapis arched an eyebrow at the motion. “Do you want that off?”

“No, no.” Peridot shook her head. “It’s fine.” 

“Good,” Lapis murmured. She draped her arms over Peridot’s shoulders, mindful so that their skin did not touch. Then tilting forward she grazed her teeth against Peridot’s neck. Peridot shifted in place, impatient at the lightness of the contact, turning her head to press a hasty kiss to the seam at the crook of Lapis’ elbow. Humming a note of approval, Lapis urged Peridot down until she sprawled beneath her against the sheets.

Near the pillows a few pages still crinkled from Peridot’s work earlier. Peridot’s lower back arched to accommodate her bound hands; she wouldn’t be able to hold this position for long. Moving down, Lapis roved with her mouth and hands. She dug her fingers into Peridot’s rib cage to hold her steady, and sucked at her breast until Peridot was choking on a moan and lifting her hips.

She had to nudge Peridot further up the bed before she could shuffle between her legs and wrench her knees apart. Lapis stroked the underside of Peridot’s calf, the indentation of her lone ankle, tapping a staccato line up to Peridot’s waist where she kneaded with her hands. Splayed out and trussed up as Peridot was, Lapis could still see the marks she had left along Peridot’s thighs a few days ago. She brushed her lips across them before licking a single long line along warm folds. 

It took very little time. Soon Peridot was gasping and writhing. The metal heel of her prosthetic bunched up the sheets, and more than once Lapis’ skin jumped at its cold touch at her flank. With one hand she kept that leg at a distance so that the icy metal did not scrape up against her, spreading Peridot further open as she did so. Peridot cried out weakly, and Lapis teased her through it with the slow broad flat of her tongue, savouring every sound, every shudder, every tensed muscle her actions caused. To have someone at her mercy, to undo them utterly -- it felt like flight, like the semblance of freedom, however pale.

When the rocking of Peridot’s hips petered off, Lapis straightened. Peridot was still regaining her composure when Lapis rolled her onto her side in order to free her hands. The necktie came apart easily, and Lapis lobbed the crumpled silk onto the floor before rising from the bed.

She crossed over to the washbasin beside the door and poured cold water from a jug into the chipped porcelain bowl. Taking up a bar of soap, Lapis scrunched up her nose at it but nevertheless used it to clean her gloves while she still wore them. She rinsed the suds carefully away, then patted the gloves dry with a towel.

From the bed Peridot motioned limply at the towel Lapis held. “Could you -?”

With her gloves dry enough Lapis wiped herself off -- her mouth and between her legs -- before tossing the towel towards the bed. It landed on Peridot’s face, and she sniggered inelegantly at Peridot’s indignant grumble of, “Wow. Thanks.”

Lapis stripped her gloves off, then lay them flat across the back of the chair to finish drying. Crossing over to the small parcel of luggage in a corner, she retrieved a nightgown and slipped it on. From Peridot’s bag she pulled out the customary singlet and briefs. By the time she returned to the bed Peridot had finished cleaning herself up and was clearing the pillows of her notes, the towel discarded on the floor.

Lapis cocked her head at the complex schematics painstakingly sketched in pencils with near illegible notes scrawled beside them. “Something new you’re working on?”

Peridot shrugged and tucked all the loose sheafs into her notebook. “HQ wants a more efficient manufacturing model for mass production.”

With a hum of understanding Lapis sat, depositing the clothes in Peridot’s lap. She leaned back on her hands and admired the curve of Peridot’s back, her surprisingly ample bust above a tapered waist, the flare of her hips shifting against the mattress as she unhooked her prosthetic, placing it on the floor. “It’s a shame, you know.”

Peridot pulled the singlet over her head and tugged it down. “Mass production is a shame?” She craned her neck to scowl quizzically over her shoulder at Lapis.

Shaking her head in wry amusement, Lapis replied. “No. Your usual clothes. You really do have a lovely figure.”

Heat suffused Peridot’s face at the unexpected compliment. Turning hastily back around she jerked the briefs up her legs and mumbled, “I like my clothes.”

“What would I have to pay to see you in a dress?” Lapis mused, her tone light and teasing.

“More than you could afford,” Peridot said dryly. Swinging her ankle up, she scooted back on the mattress so that she was supported by the pillows.

Lapis tucked her legs up until she was curled atop the sheets like a self-satisfied cat, propping herself on her elbows, chin in her hands, eyes dark and sparkling as riverstones. “I can afford quite a lot, you know. Not to mention the many other favours with which I can entice.” To drive her point home, she trilled her fingertips at the stump where Peridot’s shin ended.

“Is this your way of telling me I didn’t get you off good enough?” Peridot squinted at her as though having difficulty gauging Lapis’ expression without her glasses.

“Not at all.” Lapis rolled onto her back to stretch out her spine with a contented sigh. “Though I’m always willing for another round.”

A pause as Peridot considered that statement. Then she said, halting at every other word. “Was that -- I mean -- a suggestion? For right now? Do you want -? I could -?”

Lapis stopped her by a laying a hand over Peridot’s knee. “It wasn’t. But thank you.”

They rested like that together in companionable silence, during which Lapis closed her eyes and absent-mindedly dragged her thumb over the stubbled grain of hair at Peridot’s kneecap. She had almost begun to drift off when she felt Peridot pull away, her weight sinking into the side of the mattress.

Eyes blinking open, Lapis asked, drowsy, “Where are you going?”

“I just -” Peridot scratched at the back of her neck. “You usually prefer sleeping alone. I was going to hop over to the other bed.”

Pensive, Lapis studied her face. Peridot’s blonde fringe was cowlicked over one side of her brow, an endearing curl straying near the uneven parting. The thought of her leaving, of sleeping in cold solitude, of the night’s events swarming in that absence, of her own unwanted history left Lapis with a searing coil of fear in the pit of her stomach. Sitting upright onto her knees, Lapis hesitated in reaching out for Peridot’s shoulder, whispering hoarsely, “Don’t go.”

Halfway to standing, Peridot stared down at her in bewilderment. Then she lowered herself onto the mattress once more. The bed was narrow -- too narrow to be comfortably inhabited by both of them -- and yet she drew back a corner of the covers, offering a gap for Lapis to join her. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks again to my co-conspirator, perrstein, for all their help, as well as to Ivory for answering all my random kink questions


End file.
